


Highschool Prom's and All That Jazz

by OdeToJoysticks



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: After the squip, Friends to Lovers, I dont know how to tag, M/M, Ugh, cuteness, love these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-12-24 13:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12013473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OdeToJoysticks/pseuds/OdeToJoysticks
Summary: After the SQUIP came and fucked everything up, the gang has trouble resuming civilian life.And on top of that, Prom is just around the corner, and no one is happy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Jeremy's acting weird, and Michael is worried. A surprise confession ensues.

Michael didn't understand why Jeremy was acting weird.

He really didn't. The kid should have a smile on his face, and a pep in his motherfuckin step with how smoothly things were going. In Michael's humble opinion, things were going too well. Mr. Heere had gotten a promotion at work and was up and at em' every morning. Everyone, including Christine, had forgiven him. And he'd earned the friendship of the coolest kids in school.

But Jeremy looked like he'd been through hell and back, as he waved goodbye to his dad and trudged into Michael's PT Cruiser. Purple bruises slathered under his eyes, a rigid posture, and his eyes... his eyes weren't right. Michael had been sure it was going to be okay when Jeremy had woken up at the hospital. When he'd woken up for the first time, his eyes were bright and sparkly. He had been happy to see Michael, he'd been happy in general... at least he had been that first week. It had just been him and Michael, with the occasional company of Mr. Heere or Christine and the gang, chilling and playing video games. And it had almost felt normal, sort of like they were making up for lost time. They'd spent hours upon hours talking, and Michael had to be kicked out of the hospital so Jeremy could sleep on more than one occasion.

Then- then things changed.

The doctors said depression was a symptom of addiction recovery, but Michael knew that it was something different. Jeremy hadn't been battling addiction, he'd been battling something far worse. The doctors didn't know shit- but Michael did. And why Jeremy suddenly was tired every time Michael arrived was a mystery to him. He'd refused to see everybody- according to Christine. And this was the first time Michael had seen him in weeks. And in his honest to god opinion, Jeremy looked worse. 

"You ready?" He hummed lightly, an arm placed casually on Jeremy's headrest. Jeremy clutched his backpack to his stomach and turned to smile at Michael. A smile that put Michael's stomach in a twist, because Jeremy's eyes weren't crinkling. Something was wrong. 

"As I'll ever be." 

Michael wanted to approach this rationally, he really did. But as the silence droned on, his anxiety grew and grew. Something was wrong, it had to be wrong. This- this situation was wrong. They should be talking or laughing, anything besides sitting in awkward silence. He threw a side glance at Jeremy who continued to stare out the window. His entire body shrinking from Michael. 

And Michael was panicking. 

"Jeremy-" He started, but decided against it.

"Hm." Not even a 'Yeah?', just a hum. A hum to show- or trick Michael into thinking he was listening.

"Are you," He pondered how to phrase his concerns,"Okay?" Fucking smooth Michael. A short strained laughter erupted from Jeremy's mouth. It wasn't Jeremy's laugh. It was too trained. Jeremy... he laughed uncontrollably. His laughs bubble up through his mouth and are loud and breathy and wild. 

This was different.

"Yes, Michael. I'm 'okay'." He pronounced the word on his tongue like it was bile.

"Are you sure, man- cause you seem-"

"Well, I've just recovered from a shitty remake of the 2001 Space Odyssey. So, I might act a little weird." His voice was different too. Controlled, and tight. 

It was like they'd stepped back fifty paces. Like Michael hadn't been a badass and saved the day. He didn't want to voice the question that was brewing a dark storm in the back of his mind.

"You want to eat lunch with Rich today, he texted me last night." Michael chirped, a very pathetic attempt to... well.... he didn't even know.

"I don't know, me and dad were planning-"

"Say no more," Michael dismissed it with a hand wave like he was openly trying to dismiss the anxiety in Jeremy's voice,"Your relationship with your dad's super important... how's he doing by the way?"

"Great, actually. We went and saw a movie yesterday." Jeremy smiled. 

"What did you see?" 

"The theatre was show casing classic horror films. We saw Exorcist and Texas Chainsaw Massacre." His voice changed, a tone of excitement flavored his voice. Michael smiled at the way Jeremy leaned forward, his hands waving around as he vividly described his favorite parts of the movie. Even though Michael knew them at heart, god knows Jeremy had made him watch those shitty films enough times. 

"It was pretty badass." He sighed, looking at Michael. He quirked up an eyebrow.

"You okay?" It felt weird hearing Jeremy ask that. 

"Fine, why do you ask." He lied, pulling into the school parking lot.

"You're just, red. I don't know- I thought you were over heating or something. Your car's AC sucks ass." Jeremy's voiced, returning to the tight and restrained tone. Michael's heart squeezed.

"No. I'm fine. You ready?" Jeremy's mouth quirked up a bit.

"As ready as I was last time you asked." Michael reached for his bag in the backseat. 

"Ugh. Right sorry." He locked his car.

"It's okay- I.. I-" Jeremy looked down but was interrupted.

"Mell, what do we have Heere?" A voice called from behind them. 

"Sup, Garinski." Michael greeted as Rich wedged himself in the middle of Jeremy and Michael.

"Nothing much, headphones." He smiled, a side glance quietly assessing Jeremy. Jeremy's silence had Rich in the same mode as Michael, or so it seemed. Michael couldn't tell if Rich's scrunched brows and complete silence meant Rich was panicking as much as he was. He turned toward Michael as they walked to the school.

"Is he okay?" He mouthed. Apparently, it did. Michael shrugged, and the two of them watched Jeremy all the way to the front doors.

"Okay- I'm off to homeroom. See you, Michael." Jeremy called, as he walked away.

"See you," Michael called after him, half heartedly.

"What the fuck is up, Mell? Is he okay? That kid usually can't stop talking." 

"I don't fucking know why he's acting like this. He should be fine, I-"

"Garinski." A light hearted voice called from across the hall. Rich flushed and squished his eyes shut.

"Oh, God." He muttered and turned with a queasy smile on his face.

"Dillinger." He called, reaching for Jake's open palm. They shook. A little too long in Michael's opinion.

"Red." Jake acknowledged with a nod of his head. 

"Jake." Michael returned. They weren't friends per say. But their shared history made them more than acquaintances. 

"So, we still on for lunch?" Jake wondered, opening his locker. Michael kicked his shoe at the ground.

"Afraid not." He mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Wait- what?" Jake slammed his locker, staring down those who looked at him in shock. 

"Jeremy's acting weird." 

"Why, is anything wrong?" It was really weird to see Jake like this. He'd been shoving Michael and Jeremy into lockers for over five years, but these last months Jake had really made up for all that bullshit. It turned out Jake's dad was an asshole, and a fucking crook, so he was never home. So Jake had invited Michael- well forced Michael- to stay the night at his house because it was close enough to the hospital Michael could be down there in under a minute if Jeremy needed it. And Jake was a pretty cool guy, and he listened to Michael. They'd gotten high in Jake's backyard and sort of had a heart to heart about shitty parents, and worrying about their friends in the hospital. 

And he'd stayed there for about a month, so Michael had grown comfortable around him. 

"No, no. He has a thing, with his dad you know? Bonding or someshit." Michael filled in quickly. 

Jake exhaled.

"Great, now I have to tell Chloe- she'll be pissed. She was super excited." Rich cleared his throat.

"That's still going on?" Rich wondered innocently, a sense of urgency lacing his voice. It wasn't usual confident Rich, who had excitement laced in his voice even when he was upset.

"Yes, Garinski, that is still going on," Jake affirmed coldly. "I'm heading to class, see you later Michael." 

Rich glared after the jock with hate in his eyes. 

"Something going on between you two?" Michael asked sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he and Rich walked to homeroom.

"No. He's just a prick. He didn't have to be an asshole about it, it was just a fuckin question." Rich mumbled and was silent and pissy all the way to class.

Meanwhile, Michael contemplated calling Mr. Heere and asking him to cancel with Jeremy. He knew that it was terribly selfish of him. But Jeremy was avoiding him, he could feel it. He needed to know what was up, he couldn't deal with it if Jer left him again. He just- He couldn't. Panic clouded his vision even thinking about it. 

He paused at the door.

"You coming?" Rich questioned, opening the door.

"Yeah, gotta do something real quick though." 

"Fine, weirdo, save you a seat?" 

"Yeah sure." He waited for Rich to retreat into the classroom before pulling out his phone. Mr. Heere was on speed dial, and the phone didn't even ring once. He answered right away, panic inching into his voice.

"Michael, is everything okay? Is Jeremy-"

"He's fine, Mr. Heere." Michael could hear him exhaled loudly through the phone.

"Oh, okay. What's up, Michael." 

"Just wondering if you can reschedule that lunch with Jeremy, today? Me and Jake, and the other's kind of had something planned." Michael felt like a huge dick, but Mr. Heere sighed in relief which comforted the growing pit in his stomach. 

"I don't have anything planned with Jer, I kind of was counting on you having plans. He's been in such a slump lately, was sort of hoping you'd cheer him up." Mr. Heere chuckled awkwardly into the phone. Michael froze, the pit returning.

"Okay Mr. Heere, thank you."

"You look after him, Michael. I'm counting on you." 

"Of course, Mr. Heere. Goodbye." He hung up before Mr. Heere could speak again.

\---

Michael threw open Mr. Grandski's door. 

"Mr. Mell-"

"Sorry Mr. Grandski, but Jeremy needs to go to the office immediately." Jeremy froze in his seat, he knew that look. Michael's veiled attempt at covering his anger with the constant clenching of his fists. 

"Of course, come on Mr. Heere. Don't keep him waiting." Jeremy swallowed. Fuck, Michael was pissed. A small blush crawled along Michaels' cheeks, and his teeth were grinding. What could Michael be mad about?

Fuck. 

Michael had called his dad. Shit.

"Mr. Heere." Jeremy jumped, as his homeroom teacher glared at him. Jeremy gathered his things with shaky fingers, and Christine looked at him with concern. He didn't look back, right now he had to figure out what he was going to say to Michael.

Because at the current moment Michael looked positively murderous as he shut the door behind Jeremy, but said nothing. Nothing at all. Anxiety fled through Jeremy. What was Michael thinking? What was he going to say to him to calm him down? Fuck. Jeremy wasn't good at improv. 

But, Michael didn't speak. He just kept walking in angered silence, which was almost worse than getting yelled at. Unsurprisingly to Jeremy, they walked straight out the front door to Michael's car.

Michael put the key in the ignition wordlessly. AC blasted onto Jeremy's face, and Bob Marley graced his ears. Michael turned the volume down to nothing. It was silent again.

"Michael-" Jeremy tried, but couldn't continue. Emotions flooded into his eyes and tightened his throat and he couldn't speak.

"Jeremy, what's going on?" Michael sounded tired. Jeremy looked up from his spot on the car floor, to look at Michael. His hands were scrubbing at his eyeballs, his glasses spewn across the dashboard.

"I, uh, it's nothing. It's nothing, I'm fine." 

"Fine? Then why are you lying to me? Why would you say that you had plans if you didn't? I mean, you know... you could have said no. I don't control you Jer...I mean, jesus christ." He groaned into his hands.

"Michael, I'm sorry... I just-"

'Why are you avoiding me, Jer?" His voice was quiet. Jeremy didn't say anything, he didn't want to. He knew, he knew it would upset Michael even more. Becuase Michael was the sort of person who actually gave a fuck. You know? He wasn't a complete asshole, and Jeremy felt bad about even thinking about telling him. 

"I'm not, I don't know what-"

"Jerimiah, I've known you for twelve years. I've lost you once, and if you let me loose you again for the second time I might have a mental breakdown. Again." He swallowed. 

"I don't want to tell you." 

"I don't fucking care Jeremy," Michael snarled,"Tell me what's going on." 

Jeremy reached for the door, but Michael locked it instantly.

"Let me out." Jeremy hissed.

"Are you seriously fucking running away? Just tell me, Jer, I'm your best friend. I've stayed with you for everything-"

"Exactly!" Jeremy exclaimed, throwing his head into his hands with a pained moan. 

"What?" 

"Nothing. This is stupid. Let me out." 

"What do you mean, "Exactly." He pronounced the word carefully. 

"I don't mean anything, I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry for lying, please let me out of your car." 

"No, Jeremy. Please-"His voice cracked to his surprise. Jeremy stopped.

"No, Michael, you've dealt with all my bullshit this far. I don't need to trouble you anymore." 

"Trouble? Jeremy, please don't tell me that-"

"That what?" Jeremy hissed. Michael sighed, and started to pull out of the parking lot.

"What are you doing?" Michael didn't answer. "Michael- we can't leave school grounds. Mike. Michael, are you fucking listening?"

"Jeremy- are you seriously telling me that you've been avoiding me and your friends for weeks because you think you're not worth-" Michael spat that word, it felt gross on his tongue,"Because your not worth the fuckin trouble?" 

Jeremy was silent. Michael moaned, throwing a smile at Jeremy, who looked back painfully.

"Jeremy, it's no trouble when it comes to you. It's not even a service, it's a fucking duty. I do it with a smile." 

"Exactly. I don't understand it. I don't fucking understand how you can even tolerate a worthless piece of shit like me-"

"Jer-"

"A piece of shit, who treated you like your the fucking anti christ. Who nearly pushed you to insanity... god." Jeremy was sobbing now. Michael took a deep breath through his nose.

"Jeremy, you're going to shut up. And you're going to fucking listen to me. Okay?" Jeremy nodded weakly. 

"Remember in second grade, when Jimmy Schwarts kept spitting spit wads at me in class?" He didn't wait for Jeremy to answer,"And it really was getting on my nerves. I remember crying so hard they almost sent me home. But then, this scrawny little nobody came and kicked the pants out of a guy way out of his weight class." Jeremy made a noise of protest.

"Shut it Jer, I'm just getting warmed up. Remember when Dillenger dumped my backpack all over the ground in sixth grade and hid my stuff all over campus? Who was the little dweeb who stayed behind for three hours and ditched his last two classes to help me find my headphones? And who climbed the goddamn tree, even though he has terrified of heights, to get them?" Jeremy made no change in his face.

"And who took the blame when I got caught with weed in my backpack at school in seventh? Huh? Who took the brunt of every insult that was rightfully meant for me?"

"I could go on and on, Jeremy, but those are just stupid things. More importantly, who has been with me since the beginning. Who has listened to every dream, ache, and stupid fucking commentary? Who has dealt with all my bullshit and helped me when my mom started drinking? Who? Cause it sure wasn't a guy who isn't worth all the trouble, it was the guy who's been my friend since kindergarten. And he's worth every goddamn second." 

\---

They'd gone to Michael's house. 

Jeremy, embarrassed by his breakdown in front of Michael raided Michael's stash and had gotten high, and Michael fucking hated being the responsible one... but he didn't know what Jeremy might do. 

"Oh no, Michael. MICHAEL!" Jeremy shouted, holding his phone.

"Shhh, what Jeremy." He muttered, his eyes not straying from his screen. 

"It's my dad! Dad, hey dad, hey. Hey" Jeremy mumbled into the phone. It was then Michael's turn to lose his shit. He scrambled off of his bean bag, clumsily reaching for Jeremy's phone.

"Hey!" Jeremy protested, grabbing for the phone five seconds later than normal reaction time.

"Hello, Mr. Heere." Michael held Jeremy down with one arm, as the idiot tried to reach for his phone.

"Michael, the school called-"

"Don't worry Mr. Heere...Jeremy and I just took some time off. It was stressing him out, you know? Sorry, we didn't call before." Jeremy mouthed "liar" with a look of terror on his face. Michael shushed him. Jeremy protested further, moving from his place on the couch to attack Michael on his beanbag. 

"Yeah, he's been in a rut these last days." Mr. Heere sounded stressed, and Michael couldn't blame the poor guy. But he also couldn't fucking focus because Jeremy was currently trying to wrestle the goddamn phone out of his hands. 

"I know- don't worry. We're bro-ing it out, I've got him." Mr. Heere let out a breathy laugh.

"Yeah, I know Michael, you've always got him." Jeremy reached one last time for his phone only to fail, and give up entirely, slumping onto Michael. Michael chuckled awkwardly, a red blush creeping up his face. 

"Well, Michael, I want him back bye seven.. okay?" 

"Sure, Mr. Heere... See you." 

"Bye Michael, and-" Mr. Heere cleared his throat,"Uh, thanks." 

"No thanks necessary, Mr. Heere." 

The tone went dead.

"That wasn't fucking nice, Michael. You can't just take my things." Jeremy's head was in Michael's lap now, looking at him in very real disappointment and anger. His eyebrows puckered, and his wide eyes looked at him accusingly. 

"I can do what ever I want, I'm older." 

"No, no you're so not." 

"Yes, I so am." Michael rolled his eyes, a smirk growing on his face.

"Well, I'm taller." 

"Wow, low blow Heere. Next, you'll tell me you dress better." 

"I do dress better." Michael scoffed.

"All you ever do is wear this stupid hoodie Michael, I wear nerdy chic okay? You should be so lucky as to have my fashion sense." Snorting, Michael poked Jeremy's cheek.

"Are you trying to make me cry?" 

"No. No, I'm defending my honor. Hey-" Jeremy grabbed Michael's face, pulling him close. Michael's blush spread down to his adam's apple, now.

"Hey, in your defense you look fucking amazing without it." Jeremy sputtered, growing red as well. 

"I mean- ugh- Without your hoodie when you're just wearing your black tank. You should wear that more often..." Jeremy groaned as Michael smiled, turning his head and shoving it into Michael's stomach. 

"Dude, you get embarrassed even when you're high. How is that even possible."

"My self-esteem is that shitty, bro. Okay? Leave me alone." He defended, muffled by Michael's jacket. 

The moment of fun was gone, and Michael again realized why they were down in his basement. Partly high, and skipping school. Michael's hand went into Jeremy's hair then, instinctually. He used to do this before the SQUIP, all the time in fact... but now- it seemed different. More intimate for some stupid fucking reason. 

Jeremy's hand wrapped around Michael's stomach, making Michael's breath hitch? What the actual fuck? 

"Michael," Jeremy mumbled, removing his face from its hiding place. 

"Yeah." Michael strained to get syllables out of his lips. Ugh. Jeremy stared up at him, his wide eye's roaming over Michael's face. Michael felt awkward, and as much as he believed he couldn't be any redder, he blushed two shades deeper. Jeremy's hand reached out to touch Michael's face, and he looked at Michael like the way he looked at Christine. With a dreamy look, and an appreciative smile. 

"I think I'm in love with you." Michael's pulse quickened, and his eyes widened in disbelief. What was Jeremy thinking, what was he saying? 

"Jer... Jeremy... you can't be serious. What about Christine?" Michael's throat tightened. Jeremy was just high, he didn't know what he was saying. Jeremy smiled and laughed. It was his normal laugh, he shook with happiness at some joke Michael wasn't getting.

"Christine? What about her?"

"You love her, don't you?"

"Course," He slurred, dropping his hand from Michael's face. And Michael was grateful because he thought he might actually explode if Jeremy touched him for another second,"But I also love you. I also love video games. Can we play Call of Duty, I wanna play call of duty. That sounds fun."

They played call of duty, and Michael chalked Jeremy's confession of love to the effects of weed. But he couldn't stop thinking about it. And it was starting to piss him off. He couldn't understand why he couldn't stop thinking about Jeremy's soft hand on his cheek, why he couldn't forget that confession. He returned Jeremy home, and he couldn't for the life of him control the urge to scoop up Jeremy's hand and hold him close like they had been in his basement. And then when he hugged Jeremy goodbye and could not let him go at the door, it hit him like a truck.

He loved Jeremy too.


	2. Everybody Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Jeremy are super gay for each other, but Jeremy is still hurting. Michael feels helpless, and angst ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, look! It's more angst that no one asked for!

Realizing his love for Jeremy hit Michael in waves. 

One moment, he was jamming to Marley on his way to Seven Eleven. Then, in seconds, the soft feeling of Jeremy's hands on his cheek had him in a heaping blushy mess. The memory's of that night had been haunting him, and it was getting on Michael's nerves. On countless occasions, Michael had sworn his feelings for Jeremy had been smothered, but in seconds Jeremy proved him wrong. Warmth would infuse his bones and the next hours were spent devoted to thinking of Jeremy and wrestling with the feelings that bubbled up in his stomach. 

And it was unfair. 

Not only to Michael, but to Jeremy. Jeremy had said he'd loved Christine too, that night. And not only was he was happy with Christine, but she was good to him as well and incredibly supportive. She had even been there at the hospital. Not when Jeremy had woken up like Michael had been, but a couple hours after. She's walked nervously into the bright hospital room, armed with flowers and a controlled smile. But as soon as she saw Jeremy, she'd broken down. Michael remembered Mr. Heere grabbing him by his arm and dragging him out of the room. 

Michael had never felt so awkward in his entire life. 

Of course, he'd found some way to see into the room. And, at the time, Michael had no idea why it had been so important to watch the two interact. But Michael knew better, now. He'd remembered Christine breaking down, and collapsing onto Jeremy. It took everything Michael had not to run in there and tear her off and tell her off for disrupting Jeremy's recovery. Michael had been composed when Jer first woke up, why couldn't she be? 

But Jeremy didn't protest. 

His hands stroked her back, wincing as Christine held him closer. Michael felt like he was being submerged into cold water, and had to look away. The feelings coursed through him now, as if that had happened yesterday. The pangs of jealousy caused him to double up in embarrassment. Why in god's name was he jealous of Canigula? The dork who'd almost fallen off stage because she'd gotten too invested in her soliloquy as Lady Macbeth. More importantly, she was the girl that made Jeremy happy. So Michael's feelings of jealousy were completely selfish. He heard a door slam and flicked his eyes toward the steadily approaching boy. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Jeremy waved goodbye to his dad, as per usual. Michael had to appreciate the view, he was restraining himself but that didn't mean he couldn't look... right? Jeremy was wearing a white tee-shirt today, and blue jeans that showed his delicious legs that went for miles. Fuck.

Michael, get your life together. Jesus. He ran his hands through his hair, attempting to comb out any thought's of the blue eyed boy beneath him. Blushing as Michael tore off those pretty blue jeans. 

Shit. Godamn it, him and Jeremy were in a good place. They were solid, and it really helped that Jeremy hadn't remembered anything after smoking his last joint... so Michael would just have to pretend like nothing was wrong, like he wasn't just thinking of his best friend naked. And Michael had thought he'd been doing a good job all week.

But Jeremy, Jeremy could sense something was wrong.

Now Jeremy wasn't the most observant guy in the entire world, he knew that, but he considered himself an expert on Michael. And he knew for a fact something was troubling him. God, Jeremy knew almost an entire week had gone by, since that absolute catastrophe of a breakdown. He also knew that Michael hadn't slept a wink since then. Or at least, that's what Jeremy had deduced from his almost constant intake of coffee and persistent dozing off through the school days. Granted, Jeremy knew he didn't look too hot either, but Michael? Michael looked like Jeremy had when he'd first woken up. Hell, he sounded like him too. Constantly groaning, sighing, and seething in pain at random moments. On top of that, the insistent day dreaming and jumping whenever Jeremy touched him. 

"You okay?" Michael's face twisted in response, which caused Jeremy to crack a smile. That was usually Michael's question for Jeremy, and it felt good way too good to ask that. Like he was actually doing something, adding to their friendship instead of tearing it down and creating problems.

"Yeah, I guess I just didn't sleep too well last night." Michael sighed wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose as he waited for Jeremy to close the door.

"Or last night, or the night before." Jeremy chuckled. " At least I got one good night of sleep... but I guess you had to be the sober one that night. At least I hope you were sober, please tell me you didn't drop me off at my house while you were high, that would've been a disaster." Jeremy laughed. 

"Buckle up." Michael reminded him sternly. Jeremy rolled his eyes, reluctantly snapping his seat belt into place.

"And uh, why would it be a disaster?" Michael resumed sounding offended, but the smile on his face gave Jeremy the go ahead.

"Because you're very touchy feely when you're high. I'm sure you would've made out with my dad, or something like that." Laughter felt good on Jeremy's tongue, he was grateful that last week was in their rear-view mirror and that they were moving on. Michael thought he'd resolved all of Jeremy's bullshit, and Jeremy intended on keeping it that way. He'd promised himself he wouldn't let Michael see any of his slumped shoulders and strained smiles. But it wasn't just Michael, he'd intended on keeping it from everyone. He'd quickly gathered that his dad was losing sleep over Jeremy too, so he rose out of bed with a smile and ate breakfast like a normal teen. His dad was satisfied, and hopefully, Michael and his friends were too. But it was exhausting him and he couldn't wait for first period, he didn't have any of his friends in his class and Christine sat behind him. So he could slump, and wallow all he wanted. And no one would worry. 

"Excuse me," Michael smirked, cocking an eyebrow,"You were all over me that night." 

"Shut up." Jeremy blushed, shoving Michael's shoulder playfully. Michael protested.

"Hey, I'm the one who's driving here. If you could not assault me, that would be amazing." His eyes sparkled when he teased, and it made Jeremy's stomach squeeze. Fuck. Jeremy's face heated, as though Michael could hear the thoughts running through his head. Like- how badly Jeremy wanted to hold Michael's hand. It was right there, on the arm rest. Right next to Jeremy's, and Jeremy could feel his arm burn. A sort of magnetizing electricity was being created, pulling them together. It was driving Jeremy crazy. Would it be weird if Jeremy pulled his arm away now? Or- Oh fuck. Michael's arm brushed Jeremy's, a warm splurge of heat went racing through his body straight to his groin. 

God.

Jeremy jerked his arm away, which earned a look from Michael who shrugged it off and otherwise forgot about it. Or at least that's what Jeremy thought, but while Jeremy was hyperventilating about the tightness in his pants Michael was blushing from the tip of his nose to his neck. Shit. Had Jeremy seen him move his arm? Was he creeped out? Was Michael such a fucking virgin that even a brush of the arm was enough to get him turned on? Oh god.

He was grateful to see the parking lot of the school. He almost sighed in relief but Jeremy beat him to it. Jeremy felt a little guilty for the way he was feeling. He was dating Christine Canigula for christ sake, the girl of his dreams. A girl who had been by his side all through recovery and made him happy in general. But he couldn't understand why his fantasies of owning a small condo in Florida with Christine were getting replaced, at a very rapid pace, by daydreams waking up with Michael Mell tucked in his arms.

He had liked Christine for two years of his miserable life, and a fear began brewing in the back of his mind. Did he only want what he couldn't have? Was that even a thing? Fuck, maybe it was genetic. He guessed when his dad went after a beautiful emotionally checked out girl, in hopes of finding a faithful loving wife, he'd gotten some of that wishful thinking engraved in his son's DNA... and now Jeremy was fucked for life. 

Michael pulled into his typical parking spot and immediately got out of the car. He'd almost forgotten to take his goddamn keys out of the engine.. but jesus. He needed out of that car. And if Jeremy could have gone faster, he would've. The electricity in that car was too much to take, and Jeremy needed fresh, not sexually tense, air in his lungs. Silence ensued, as the two made their way to the doors. They were only two feet away but god, it felt like they were right on top of each other. Oh god, where was Rich? Or Jake, fuck Jeremy would even take Brooke. 

"Yo, legs, wait up." There it was, the relief. Rich wedged himself in between the two, as usual, and both boys couldn't help but sigh in gratitude. 

"Dude, what's with the hair?" Jeremy questioned, readjusting his backpack. He could honestly care less, but he needed conversation. Because god, Michael was looking at him. Michael was staring at him with those big fucking eyes, and that half assed grin and-

"Oh, just a change in scenery." Rich smiled, nose in the air as he flicked his now bright purple hair with pride. Michael laughed, a stretched laugh he hoped Jeremy wouldn't catch. But how could Jeremy catch something so small when Michael's cologne was so goddamn overbearing and positively mouth watering. 

"So, does that like- fucking glow in the dark or something? That color is so bright you could bring lost ships to shore."

"Of course dude, you think I get regular purple hair? Oh no, Richard Garinski always aims to impress every ship in the sea." He winked at Michael for show.

"You changing your wardrobe too, Garinski?" Michael probed, still eager for meaningless conversation. Rich blushed a deep scarlet, looking suddenly bashful. 

"Yeah, shit Rich. Why wear a turtle neck in summer, do you want heat stroke or something?" Jeremy asked light heartedly, but the pair of them seemed to have struck a chord with the shortest. 

"I just- I..." But Rich inhaled, his smile returning,"Just had some fun with a lady last night. She wants to keep it hush, hush... so..." He rolled his eyes pointing to the gray turtle neck.

"You know the ladies, got to keep them happy. Am I right Jer?" Rich elbowed Jeremy in the ribs.

"You-Your right, Rich," Jeremy answered, six seconds too late. Jeremy smiled really hard to compensate, but that didn't stop Michael from throwing weird his way.

"See you at lunch, guys." He threw a hand up, earning half hearted waves back. Michael was too tired from practicing self-restraint to give an enthusiastic wave that Jeremy deserved. But Jeremy didn't notice the difference in waves and enthusiasm levels as watched as his friends retreated down another hall. Michael's face dissolve into the crowd, and Jeremy's taught face began to slacken and his shoulders dropped in exhaustion and all that he'd been holding for the last twelve hours coursed through him. Fucking hell, it was going to be a long day.

\-----

"So I couldn't help but notice," Michael said slyly, as he held open the door. "That J.D also had a turtle neck on. Bit suspicious, don't you think?" Rich blanched.

"Why? Maybe we both just have impeccable taste in clothing." Rich stammered, taking a seat right beside Michael on the second to last row. 

"C'mon Rich, you and I both know that Dillinger has two modes. Wearing his Jersey, or his white and red baseball tee. I haven't seen him wear a goddamn turtle neck in the fucking winter."

"But that was before me and him were actually friends-"

"Oh, so your actually," Michael put a suggestive emphasis on that word," friends now?" 

"Fuck off, Mell." Rich held up his middle finger before resting his face in his crossed arms. 

Michael had sort of been hoping to silence him, he did need the silence to finally catch up on a week's worth of sleep. Fatigue tore at him, he had known that he was tired but the pain in his eyes was so overbearing. In the moment, he couldn't understand why he'd lost so much sleep but he'd spent the last week wired, tossing and turning all night... wrestling with the warm feelings that came with the thoughts of Jeremy that would not leave. He was such a fucking loser... a loser who desperately needed to get laid. The thought of himself this week made Michael even more embarrassed for himself than he usually was. A complete red mess thinking about his best friends fucking hand on his cheek. His fucking cheek. They'd certainly been more intimate before, but now... now it meant something. Even if Jer hadn't confessed his love, Michael knew those feelings would've been brewing under the surface. Michael threw his head on the desk. He was such a selfish asshole. An absolute fucking joke. 

He really couldn't help but congratulate these unwelcomed feelings for having the worst timing in all of human history. Not only was Jeremy happy and settled with Christine, but if Michael alerted Jeremy to these feelings who knows how Jer might act. Would he feel obligated to dump Christine to be with him? Obligated because Michael had saved him? Becuase he felt guilty about hurting Michael? Jeremy was quite the martyr, but Michael supposed all of this was stupid. He couldn't understand why he was reading so far into it. These feelings were obviously fleeting, they weren't permanent. They would disappear as quickly as they appeared. They were just a small attraction that would blow away

Right? 

\------

Jeremy stared out the window. 

His mind focused on the potted plants outside. His brain concentrating on every indent and curve of the ugly leaves smashed together outside his classroom. He'd made a habit out of this ever since he'd been released from the hospital. He observed all the boring details of anything and it kept his brain busy. He wouldn't be in his head so much if he did this, he wouldn't think as much. He observed the different shades of green, and the curled up brown edges of the leaves due to a week of neglect. Brown. Brown like- 

Michael's eyes. Hmm, guess it wasn't working particularly well for him today. And before he could reign in his thinking, his mind had taken off without him. 

Michael's eyes were so red hot and warm. They were always so intense, and of course, they were always in cased in those unholy lashes. At times though, when Jeremy was lucky enough to earn a soft glance (which was more and more common these days), Michael's eyes were soft and fuzzy. Like cinnamon in morning coffee. His eyes rarely darkened, they were always so light and dreamy. Except for that one night. Jeremy felt a pain in his chest as he unwillingly remembered the Halloween party. He remembered how Michaels intense red hot eyes had gone from bright and sunshiny to dark and stormy in seconds He'd guessed he'd seen Michael upset before when his mom would drink and Michael would crawl through Jeremy's window and they'd cram in together on his single. But his eyes had only been soft and wet with tears... the Halloween party was something different And Jeremy had inflicted it.

Jeremy had inflicted unimaginable pain on his best friend that night. He'd caused the lip bite, and the stray tear, and the immediate fleeing to the bathroom. Jeremy had done that, all by himself. Without a gun to his head, with one fucking word, he'd undone his best friend. Jeremy clenched his eyes shut, and scratched his head angrily. A thrill of creepy crawlies swam through his body, and he suddenly became very impatient... the need to move twitched at his bones....

Bones. 

"Mr. Heere?" Jeremy flinched, pulling his gaze from the window to the glare of the teacher hunching over his desk ominously. Jeremy's mouth dried, he was in trouble now. 

"Y-yes?" He murmured, shaking as he turned his sight to the ground. His classmates snickered, which triggered some hot flashes of anxiety to strike through Jeremy. 

"Did you hear what I just said?" His teacher barked at him. Jeremy swallowed, his throat closing in. 

"No, no sir." 

"Mr. Heere, why don't you go and refocus and take a trip to the principle's office. This is the third time this week you've dozed off during my lessons, go." He tsked, tapping his foot impatiently as Jeremy hopped up immediately. This was the second time he'd gotten thrown out of class this week. Would the principle call his dad? Oh, god. No, he'd worked so hard to keep his dad in the dark. To protect him... 

Jeremy was shaking so hard, he dropped his book. A ripple of laughter ran through the classroom. He was such a fucking idiot. Why, if there was a fucking God... why did he have to make Jeremy such a fucking- Jeremy's heart pulsed. He bolted for the exit, his face red with embarrassment and lack of oxygen, and his skin was crawling. Lord, he was so fucking uncomfortable. So, so uncomfortable. 

His chest started to heave as he made his way down the hall. Just fucking breath, Jeremy, you piece of shit. Can't you just fucking breath? Can't you do that one thing right?

His chest heaved once more.

Why couldn't he just forget about that night? Michael had. Right? Of course not, how could he? How could that night not have turned Michael into fifty shades of fucked up? Abandoned by his only friend, and left alone to wallow in the most satanic way possible. 

He couldn't. He couldn't go to the goddamn office. He needed- he needed to escape.

He threw open the school doors and pounded down the steps.

He was going to be okay, he was absolutely fine. If he could just get his fucking breathing under control. 

Jeremy started to tremble as a result of little oxygen getting to his extremities, and his eye sight began to fog over, but he saw an ugly shade of purple. Michael's car. Thank god. He prayed the door was unlocked. 

"Jer?"

Oh god. Oh god, no.

Another continuous flash of heat swept through Jeremy, fear bubbled in his throat. His cardigan began to reach unholy levels of uncomfortableness.He reached to open the back passenger side, the door closest. 

"Jeremy?" The voice was closer now, worried. Oh fuck. He felt like that girl in the slasher film, the one who can't find her keys and only finds them in time for the killer to wear her intestines.

His fucking shaking was so goddamn intense now, as he tried to open the door. He missed the handle four, before discovering that he couldn't fucking grasp the handle because his hand was numb. 

"Fuck." He moaned, the discomfort wracking through his body in nauseating waves. He fell to his hands and knee's as his legs gave way from under him. 

"Jeremy, are you okay?" The voice was panicked now. 

"Leave-gasp-me alone- gasp- Michael." He wanted to be in the fucking car now. His car. Michael's car- he was in Michael's car. Someone tore off his jacket. It was gone. His jacket was off now, he could breathe, no- no he couldn't. Holy fucking god.

"Jeremy?" Michael breathed from beside him. How did he get here? How the fuck did Jeremy get in the car? Michael scooted closer. No, No, NO.

"Mich- gasp- ael- gasp- get the fuck- gasp- away from-" Arm's wrapped around Jeremy tightly. Jeremy wheezed. Michael didn't need this. He didn't need this bullshit, not after last week. God, Jeremy didn't need this. He didn't fucking need to be touched, he didn't want to be touched, he couldn't feel his hands. He couldn't- He couldn't see. He couldn't fucking breathe. Why was Michael touching him, why- 

"Let me-" Jeremy was sitting on top of Michael's lap now, his hands and arms around Jeremy as he heaved. Michael had Jeremy's head turned onto his heart. His heart. His heart was pounding.

"Fuck- Mike-" He tried to break free, but Michael had him in a tight grip.

"No, woman, no cry." Michael's voice was fragile. Fragile and cracked. Michael was near tears, Michael. Michael. He was in his car. How did he get in his car? Michael's heartbeat began to slow.

"No, woman, no cry." Jeremy's breathing slowed, copying the rise and fall of his friend's chest. He could feel his arms now. He could see the shitty texture of Michael's one thousand-year-old hoodie. Michael's terrible accent tickled Jeremy's ears. Jeremy was shaking. Shaking. Jeremy's hands were cold. And Michael's AC was on. Michael's car was on.

"Jeremy?"

"I'm okay, Michael. You can let go of me, or-"

"Oh." Jeremy fled from Michael as soon as he loosened his grip on him like Michael was a hot stove he'd just burnt himself on. The car was thick with tension as Jeremy slid far away from Michael, and tried to reclaim his normal breathing pattern. It felt nearly impossible without Michael's constant reminder of the correct time to inhale and exhale, but he finally resumed a normal pace in breathing in time. He threw a glance at his watch, jesus. They'd been in this fucking car for twenty minutes. Jeremy opened his mouth, but decided against it, and made a move to open the car door.

"Stop, Jeremy." Jeremy froze. Michael's voice was hurt, Jeremy had done it again. Nice one, Heere. Jeremy turned in desperation to relieve the pain in Michael's stitched eyebrows and thick voice. 

" I-I... M-Michael I-" What could he even say? 

"Jeremy-"

"Michael, I'm... I'm sorry. Fuck, you must get sick of this. I mean twice this week." Jeremy flushed red, the palms of his hands brushing against his pants.

"Jeremy." Michael's voice cracked. Jeremy made a noise in the back of his throat that pulled Michael from the worry's in his head. He wasn't going to cry. This was about Jeremy. 

"Two day's of my utter bullshit, I'm sorry."

"Jeremy, don't be sorry," He pulled Jeremy toward him, surprised that there was absolutely no resistance from Jeremy. Michael didn't know how to do this, he wasn't equipped for this shit. Back in the day, when they'd hid their pain behind cuts and burns, Michael could just affectionately pat Jeremy's head and slaughter some zombies to take their mind off it for the time being. But things were different now. Things were real now, and Michael just wasn't prepared. But Michael could hug. He could hold his friend close as a sort of reminder that at least they were alive. And that was the best he could do, for now. Jeremy started to tremble, and Micheal's throat closed in panic. Tears still welled up in his eyes, and he bit his lip so hard he swore he drew blood. Stop, he told himself, stop being a fucking baby. This isn't about you. Jeremy began quaking, now. And Michael needed to get his shit together, calm him down. Jeremy didn't need another panic attack. That was just too much for one day. 

"You don't have to be sorry, this... this is to be expected. You're safe now, okay? The SQUIP can't get you." Michael tried to console, his hand running up and down Jeremy's back. Jeremy froze. 

"M-Michael-" He didn't have the heart to tell Michael that his feelings toward him were still unresolved. That even though he swore he could still hear the SQUIP whispering into his ear from time to time, the SQUIP was the last thing on his mind. It was Michael, it was always Michael. He didn't have the balls to tell his friend that despite all his reassuring, he still felt like shit. 

He still felt numb. 

"Sh, Jer, it's okay. I'm here." Michael was begging now, he was panicking now, why couldn't he fix it? He used to be able to fix it, he should be able to fix this. 

"Michael." Jeremy's voice trembled and stuttered syllables as he heard Michael's heart beat faster. Goddamn it. Michael held Jeremy a little tighter, what more could he do? How do you deal with the fact that the person you care most about is in pain, and your absolutely useless against it? At least, while Jeremy had the SQUIP, Michael still had a plan. He was still useful in fighting for Jeremy. But now? He swallowed hard, shoving his own feelings down. But his hands still shook and Michael mentally had to tell himself to get his shit together. This wasn't about you, this was about Jeremy.

Jeremy.

"Michael- I..." Michael was pulled from his brain. He was pulled back into the car, where this beautiful broken boy was tucked into his arms. Michael was desperate to at least get Jeremy through the morning, or the fucking hour. He pressed his nose into Jeremy's fluffy hair and inhaled. His best friend was hurting... And it made his heart thump painfully in his chest. He felt tears run down the bridge of his nose, onto Jeremy's perfect hair. He didn't have time to reprimand himself, he just had to keep it quite. He couldn't help it now, they overflowed. The came like a fucking avalanche and were uncontrollable. Michael drew in a shaky breath, goddamn. Jeremy sat up straight, panic in his eyes. 

"I know I-" He swallowed,"I'm sorry, M, please. Please don't cry." Jeremy begged in a pained voice. 

"I know you're just-" He sobbed," You're my best fucking friend. And- and I'm sorry." He was heaving uncontrollably now. " I'm sorry I can't help you through this..." He swallowed weakly, crossing his arms across his stomach, his eyes refusing to look at Jeremy. 

He settled a hand on his Michael's thick shoulder, a nice feeling seeping into his bones. A blush crept up into his cheeks as Michael looked up at him in shock, his wide eyes still leaking with tears. Jeremy flinched. Because... because Michael's eyes weren't dark and stormy... they were bright and misty. Jeremy hadn't hurt him, and that caused an entire brick to be shed from his stomach. He exhaled loudly, smiling at his friend, his hand wiping the tears from his face 

"Michael... it's not your job to save me. Okay? You're doing all you can, and that's enough. Okay?" Jeremy's heart clenched, as Michael smiled softly leaning into his touch. His eye's brightened to the color of milky coffee. 

"I'm sorry. I promised myself," Michael shrugged from Jeremy's touch. Jeremy suddenly became very self-conscience of how touchy he was being and quickly put five inches between them, a pink tint blossoming on his cheeks. "I promised myself I wouldn't make this about me, that I wouldn't cry." 

"Hey, we're in this together... okay?" He smiled, gesturing to his own watering eyes. 

"Okay," Michael confirmed, half heartedly. But Jeremy believed it and smiled a warm smile accompanied by a breathless laugh. 

Together. The word made his pulse quicken. 

Fuck, Jeremy was falling hard.


	3. Stuck between a rock and Christine Canigula

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine ambushes Michael at his house, and Michael must make a very hard decision.

Michael had been waiting for pizza for a solid twenty minutes. Needless to say, when the doorbell rang he'd ran upstairs with such gusto it was hard to believe he'd been in a depressed coma not thirteen seconds before. Running up the stairs, however, proved to be very quick and quite an insufficient amount of time to formulate a well thought out angry speech. And after he briefly acknowledged his father in the kitchen he threw open the door. Rage bubbled in his throat, and he said something along the lines of.

"Pizza delivered in ten minutes my ass" And though it wasn't Shakespeare, Michael felt it illustrated his feelings on the matter perfectly. 

But alas, it was not the pizza man.

In fact, the person there could never ever bring him as much joy as pizza. Because Christine fucking Canigula was standing there, smiling wide at him.

"Love the energy Michael, but uh... Why are you yelling at me?"

Michael had no words. He had legitimately been jacking off to the thought of her pretty little boyfriend all week, and now she was here. And he was seriously fucked.

"Um- Uh.." He stuttered stupidly, thoroughly embarrassed for his horniness and his outburst, earning a big giggle from her.

"Your so articulate, you and Jeremy must get along swell!" She gushed. Jeremy. The name clicked into Michael's brain. She was looking for Jeremy. 

"Jeremy isn't here, he's probably at ho-"

"I'm not here for Jeremy," She interjected in a rush, blushing as Michael looked at her stupidly, " I'm here to talk to you." She finished quietly.

"Oh!" He replied like an idiot. 

"So, can I come in?"

"Of course." 

\---

In the twelve years that Michael had gone to school, the only person he'd ever hung out with was Jeremy. And the one word to describe there first meeting was awkward. So, five-year-old Michael had flipped on his vintage console and they'd played video games until Jeremy's father came to get him. And Michael always leaned on video games to avoid confrontation and awkwardness whenever he came over. And it always worked. 

So, when Canigula begrudgingly sat on his old ass beanbag (a seat solely ever occupied by Jeremy) and wouldn't stop fidgeting thus making him super nervous, he hesitantly asked if she liked video games. 

He was very surprised at how quickly she answered. 

She was incredibly enthusiastic and readily accepted. And to Michael's annoyance, she was very good. Of course, no one could replace Jeremy, but if he had to choose someone besides Jeremy it would be Canigula. And that pissed him off to no end. She could kick zombie ass and come up with unexpectedly witty verbiage at the same time, contrary to how dorky and uncoordinated she was in every setting he'd seen her in. And he was impressed, and he had to admit that she probably was a very great match for Jeremy. She was everything Jeremy needed to be quite frank. She was outgoing, passionate, and freaking hilarious. And she was strikingly similar to Michael. And he wasn't being cocky either. Jeremy brought out those sides in him, he fueled a flame inside Michael that made him more than a depressed lump of nothing. Quite honestly, without Jeremy, Michael was an anti-social freak of nature. He truly relied on Jeremy to arouse feelings, and personality traits inside him. And in that way, he knew he'd fail if he and Jeremy got together. Jeremy definitely needed someone who could function outside of him and could continue living if they ever broke up. Michael didn't think he could really be a person if Jeremy left him, and that is exactly why Michael would never make a move.

"Michael, could you give me a hand here? I'm dying!" Christine elbowed him aggressively, scaring him out of his pathetic thoughts. He needed to stop thinking, she needed to leave. 

He pressed pause, and Christine groaned in disapproval, sinking in defeat to the beanbag. 

"Michael, I was destroying them single-handedly!" She turned to give a biting scowl to Michael, but his face soothed her frustration. She turned beet red, and returned to her uncomfortable fidgeting. 

"Christine, why are you even here?" He sounded like a dick, he knew it. But god, there was no way she just showed up because she wanted to hang and play video games. And he needed her gone. 

She only stayed silent, gnawing on the inside of her cheek. 

"Couldn't you have gone to Jeremy's house to chill out? I mean, we're not even friends." Man, he was such a shithead, but it was a legit question. Michael and Christine had never spoken previously to there few interactions at the hospital, and those were awkward to say the least. 

Christine sucked in a breath, holding it for a few beats before staring directly at him. He discovered her eyes were red, and a tear escaped as she confessed why she'd come.

"Michael, I think-" She sucked in a breath, she glanced away,"I think Jeremy is breaking up with me." Her tears came frequently now, and Michael fought the warm feeling swarming his body. 

"Why, why do you think-"

"He hasn't held a single conversation with me in two weeks. Ever since he was released he has constantly avoided me. We sit together in first period for fuck's sake," Damn, Michael thought, she's serious."But whenever I try and talk he only smiles and shushes me, turning toward the teacher like he's trying to pay attention. But I know all he does is stare out the window. And what about last week? When he had a meltdown, and I just barely heard about it! From Jenna Roland!"

Michael held his breath and fought the urge to confirm her suspicions. Tell her that Jeremy had changed after the SQUIP left, that his needs had changed. That she really just wasn't what he needed anymore. But truly? Christine was exactly what he needed. Christine had her shit together, Christine was her own person. Christine was reliable and could take care of Jeremy. When Jeremy had attacks, Christine could hold her shit together. She made up where Michael fell short, she was perfect. They were the perfect love story. Something that could last. Something that would bring Jeremy happiness. Him and Michael being together was a risky move, especially since both of them were emotionally unstable they were bound to fuck each other up sometime. And was he really ready to sacrifice their friendship? The only thing that kept him alive this long? Best stick to the easy win.

"Look, Christine," he placed a hand on her shoulder, drawing out of her depressed stupor,"I know Jeremy better than anyone, okay? And he has been obsessed with you since the sixth grade, ever since you dueled him with pencils in Ms. Moony's literature class. He still talks about how unbelievable it is, that a girl as cute as you, would even talk to him... much less make lightsaber noises at every strike." 

"But-" 

"No, no. It's been so annoying, and believe me, those feelings don't go away overnight."

"Not just overnight, over the course of a couple weeks, Michael!" Michael rolled his eyes, thanking whoever created the universe for blessing him with an attraction to men. He didn't even know how Jeremy functioned with women. 

"He's just adjusting to civilian life, okay? He feels guilty, he just needs time. And just so you know," He removed his hand, no longer glancing at her. "Jeremy's a little bitch. He will never make the first move. Maybe you need to ask him out, put him in a situation where you'll really know if he wants to spend time with you or not. If you text him and ask him to hang out tomorrow and he says he has plans with his friends or with his dad he's lying. And you'll know where you stand. But I highly doubt he'll say anything but yes." 

She sniffed for a bit.

"Okay, I guess so." She smiled at him. "Thanks, Michael, thanks a lot." She threw her arms around him, the hollow feeling in his chest deepening.

"Sure, Christine, let me walk you out." 

They walked up the stairs in silence, a silent goodbye sweeping between them as he shut the door in her face before she could speak. 

He turned to run down the stairs to... cry... hyperventilate... get high... he didn't fucking care. He just needed to get out, but a clearing of the throat coming from his kitchen told him that escape wouldn't be that easy. 

He begrudgingly walked into the kitchen, where his father sat at the table reading a newspaper with his back toward Michael. 

"Yes, sir?" He muttered halfheartedly, not bothering to stand up straight. 

"Was that a girl?" His father hummed.

"Yes, sir," Michael answered very mechanically. 

"You were down there a long time." He mused. 

"Yes, sir." They sat for a few beats.

"So," His father's tone was biting,"Guess your not a fag, anymore, huh?" 

"Guess not."

Guess fucking not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long delay, guys. I had finals all last month, and have just started working all through the week. But now, I'm settled and have a routine down. And now I can get down to writing! Expect new chapters at the end of every week.


End file.
